The adventure began long before I arrived at Steamboat Bay Fishing Club on remote Noyes Island, where unadulterated, old-growth forest stretches right up to the edges of its serene shoreline. To get there from Ketchikan, I hopped a floatplane for a 45-minute flight over Tongass National Forest—the planet’s largest intact temperate rainforest—before being dropped off at the lodge’s private dock.
Certified by Alaska Green Adventure for its sustainability efforts, the luxury resort has operated on the island since 2013 and hosts a max of 24 guests. Typical three-night stays include guided fishing, curated chef’s dinners, rejuvenating massages, nature walks, and late-night storytelling and stargazing around the fire pit. Throughout my visit, I spied bald eagles, orcas, humpback whales, sea otters, and sea lions. The stay was unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before.
It’s still an awe-inspiring experience for Haida-Tsimshian fisherman and artist Everett Athorp, who has served as a fishing guide at Steamboat Bay since it opened. “I’m amazed by the beauty of the place,” he says. “There’s nothing like getting out on the water on a beautiful day and seeing the sunrise and all the wildlife. I can’t picture myself doing anything else—I just love the freedom of being out on the water.”
Athorp’s easygoing, unassuming demeanor belies his decades-long experience and expertise, which are rooted in the knowledge passed down by his Indigenous ancestors. Regulars who return to the resort every summer request to hit the water with him, eager to hear his stories of growing up in Alaska and to learn about the significance of fishing for the state’s 229 federally recognized tribal nations.
“Salmon are so important to Alaska Native culture,” says Athorp, who lives in nearby Klawook on Prince of Wales Island. “Fishing is a livelihood and a way of life here. I’ll tell my guests about the old ways people fished, using traps and wooden halibut hooks. I hope they come away with a respect for the salmon, the fishery, and the land—and an appreciation for the opportunity to be here, even if it’s a slow fishing day.”
In Alaska, fishing isn’t just a hobby—it’s a means of survival, especially for the state’s vast rural population, who depend on subsistence hunting and fishing to feed their families. Dating back millennia, Alaska Native communities have stewarded and sustainably harvested wild salmon runs, building smokehouses and summer fish camps (many of which are still in use). Oral histories, formline artwork, and traditional dances all honor the role of salmon as not only a vital food source but also an important cultural symbol; my Tlingit tribe considers salmon to be sacred beings representing abundance, renewal, and life itself.
